


Silver

by troiing



Series: I like me a season 5 full of lady love [6]
Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:05:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4867667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troiing/pseuds/troiing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're going silver on me."</p><p>Or: a vignette about Charlotte growing older, and Helen remaining the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver

“You’re going silver on me.”

It’s not the first time she’s seen, but it is the first time she’s allowed herself to dwell—book in hand, Charlotte’s head nestled against her breast, twisting a lock of wavy, dark hair between her finger and thumb.

She means for it to pass as a casual observation, but Charlotte tilts her head, eyes just catching Helen’s face through her lashes. “You’re not.”

Helen watches carefully for a moment, pausing with her hand in the air, then resumes her movements again. Curls Charlotte’s hair around her fingers, thumb following the line of a lighter strand. “Too right.”

Charlotte's always been ready to speak when Helen goes quiet, and she watches Helen's distant expression for only a moment. “Is that gonna be a problem?” she asks quietly.

Helen smiles. Exhales heavily, but doesn’t speak. Charlotte pushes herself up just a little, weight on her elbow, and observes. Helen’s eyes and mouth have always whispered subtle treason when she dares not speak. The crook of her mouth fades as her brows furrow, then the faint smile returns again in a twitch of her lips as her thumb traces down Charlotte’s face, brow to chin.

Charlotte twists, pressing a hasty kiss into Helen’s palm. The gesture stirs Helen to action—a response that needs no words. She curves her back, leans in, draws Charlotte into another warm kiss. It’s how she’s always answered questions about the future. A solemn reminder that there is now. An indication of what she wants. A promise that’s not a promise.

When Helen reclines into the pillows again, Charlotte drops her face once more to Helen’s chest, splaying her fingers across her ribs. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Helen replies at length, brushing Charlotte’s hair back, examining the individual silver strands with tender affection. “Being mortal?”

“There’s definitely that.”


End file.
